


Dog Days

by theskywasblue



Category: Inception
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Puppies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-11
Updated: 2013-03-11
Packaged: 2017-12-05 01:42:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/717425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theskywasblue/pseuds/theskywasblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“They were just giving him away on the street corner, outside the deli,” Eames said, in his best <i>I have just done something perfectly rational, only you don’t understand it yet</i> voice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dog Days

**Author's Note:**

> I blame everything on [](http://kansouame.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**kansouame**](http://kansouame.dreamwidth.org/) and her [relentless](http://kansouame.tumblr.com/post/45155040182/dragqueeneames-tom-hardy-animal-rescue-march) [posts](http://kansouame.tumblr.com/post/45147870537/sometimes-fallingisthebestpart-so-cute-3) [of Tom Hardy](http://kansouame.tumblr.com/post/45144038896/tom-hardy-and-the-cutest-puppy-in-the-world-on) [with the cutest](http://kansouame.tumblr.com/post/45142882248/incepship-the-fuck-with-the-world) [Pitt Bull puppy](http://kansouame.tumblr.com/post/45142001765/charlidos-a-beautiful-close-up-on-the-happy) [EVER](http://kansouame.tumblr.com/post/45138608587/notsodarling-charlidos-tom-filming-animal). Basically written and edited in 90 minutes, so forgive any mistakes. Also, in a random "No one cares" note - I think, from the picture, that the puppy is actually what's called "blue brindle" not grey; but I wasn't going to write Blue Brindle because barely anyone knows what that means and I didn't want anyone to be like "Puppies are not blue!" so...yeah...That.

“Eames, what the _hell_?”

Barely two steps off the freight elevator, Eames stopped dead in his tracks and flashed Arthur what he probably thought was the most winning smile of all time. The small, grey and white puppy tucked half-inside his jacket squirmed and whimpered urgently, desperate to be put down on the floor to wreak havoc, no doubt.

“They were just giving him away on the street corner, outside the deli,” Eames said, in his best _I have just done something perfectly rational, only you don’t understand it yet_ voice.

“Is it wearing a sweater?”

Logically, the fact that the puppy was wearing a sweater – striped in pink, red, white, and purple – really should have been a secondary concern to the fact that Eames was bringing a puppy to the loft to begin with; but Arthur’s mind was sort of stuck on the hideous, hideous sweater.

The puppy squirmed around in Eames’ arms and started licking his face. Eames responded by planting a smacking kiss on the top of its square head and shifting it around until he was carrying it almost like it was a human child. Arthur wanted to be nauseated, but instead there was this creeping warmth somewhere deep in his chest.

“ _He_ is wearing a _jumper_ ,” Eames corrected. “It’s bloody cold out there.”

Arthur resisted the urge to just...rub at his face and sigh. He also decided that he wasn’t going to point out the fact that there was no way in the world that Dom was going to allow Eames to keep a puppy at the loft when they were supposed to be working. He would let Dom and Eames argue over that themselves when Dom arrived tomorrow. Instead, he decided it was just safer to change the subject entirely.

“Did you get the papers?”

There was a moment of perfect silence. Eames looked at Arthur, Arthur looked at Eames, the puppy looked back and forth between them like he was watching an invisible tennis match. At last, Eames had the good sense to look sheepish.

“I may have been slightly distracted...”

“Oh, for the love of –“

“I’ll go right now,” Eames interrupted quickly, putting the puppy down on the floor and turning back towards the elevator. “Won’t take two minutes.”

Actually, Eames would probably have to spend at least an hour standing in line, and there was no way Arthur was going to be left alone at the loft caring for a sweater-clad puppy that Eames had bought off a street corner – who was currently peeing on the floor next to Arthur’s work-table.

“I’ll go.” Arthur grabbed his coat and strode straight past Eames into the elevator. “You stay here and clean that up. And try and find a home for him while you’re at it.”

As Arthur pulled the door down at hit the button for the main floor, Eames looked at him through the safety gate with the saddest, most confused expression and said, “What are you talking about? He has a home.”

“A _proper_ home!” Arthur shouted as the elevator started to sink down, steadfastly ignoring the tiny kick of guilt in the pit of his stomach.

Arthur spent ninety minutes trying to get the blueprints from the City Planning Office. By the time he finally had them in his possession and escaped into the early evening chill, he had a pounding bureaucratic headache and an empty stomach. He grabbed some takeout sandwiches and coffee from the deli on the corner on the way back – noticing that there was no sign there of anyone selling little grey puppies; at least not anymore – before he went up to the loft. As the elevator, which had definitely seen better days, lurched upwards, he was already composing a perfectly sound argument in his head for why Eames couldn’t _possibly_ keep the puppy, especially because they were supposed to be working, and why he should be smart and take it to the nearest shelter (or possibly just down the corner to hand it off to someone else); until he pulled up the safety gate to step out of the elevator and saw what had become of the loft.

It was an utter mess. Eames had laid down newspaper – obviously in an attempt to keep the puppy from peeing on everything – and a great deal of it had been shredded. He’d emptied out his suitcase, piled the clothes on top of Arthur’s desk and put a folded towel inside at an attempt at a dog bed; and several pairs of socks were scattered across the floor, chewed full of holes. It should have made Arthur absolutely furious; but, right in the middle of the disaster, was Eames - asleep in one of the lawn chairs that Arthur normally set up for practice-runs of the mazes, with the puppy sprawled out asleep on his chest, head tucked up under Eames’ chin.

They were both snoring, softly, and the sight gave Arthur that distracting, warm feeling in his chest again.

Arthur picked his way across the loft, pausing briefly to pick up the puppy’s sweater, which had been discarded on the floor, folding it and putting it on top of the pile of Eames’ clothes. When he reached the chair Eames was sleeping in, the puppy lifted its head and whined happily, tail thumping on Eames’ stomach.

Eames cracked one eye open, looked up at Arthur, and then squeezed it shut again, smothering a yawn with the back of one hand.

“They’re not going to let you keep a puppy at your hotel, you know,” Arthur said, at last.

Eames’ mouth curved into a lazy smile. “I was hoping you’d let us stay with you. You’ve got a flat here, right?”

The puppy was probably going to pee on Arthur's expensive Turkish rug, and chew the legs off his coffee table; but the way Eames smiled with his hand smoothing over the puppy’s glossy fur, it would probably be worth it.

“Yeah – better put your suitcase back together.”

Eames’ muzzy smile became a full-blown grin. He swung up out of the chair and practically dropped the puppy into Arthur’s arms. “Brilliant. You’re the best, Arthur.”

The puppy slobbered joyfully all over Arthur’s face, obviously in agreement.

-End-


End file.
